Vote. Vote for anybody except Labour or Conservative or Liberal Democrat. Neither the Tories nor Labour nor the Lib Dems represent anything other than the status quo: stagnation, loss of national identity and moral vacuity. No new ideas, no future. I don't care if you vote BNP, or Green, or SNP or Communist or Monster Raving Loony or the Judean Peoples' Front, but it is time to send a message to the main parties that they are not serving the country.
I ask you to do this, especially if you would normally vote Labour, because I ask you. as a socialist, did you really expect The Labour Government to be fighting two illegitimate wars? Did you really expect that when Gordon Brown said "British Jobs for British Workers", he really meant it? Did you expect your Trades Union leaders and council leaders to be on salary packages on a par with City Bankers or just plain corrupt to the point where they have to flee to Australia to avoid questioning? Did you think it was right that wealthy Labour donors should become members of the Privy Council, and then be protected from prosecution when found to be fiddling expenses? Did you think it was right for Gordon Brown to suppress the expenses scandal? Do you want your children to be educated to a level that has decreased significantly in the last 12 years, and continues to do so? Do you want to more of your wages spent on more local government, more CCTV, more spying and interference with your private life? Do you want choices about the way you live to be taken away from you? Do you want a society where those who give nothing to it are the biggest gainers?
Ask yourself these questions, and if you still want to vote Labour, then you deserve all you get.
COMMENTS ARE TURNED OFF FOR THE DURATION
Get yer own blog
Weasel is off for a while. I don't have a lot more to say that has not been said. There are nearly 900 posts since the blog was started; some are worth a second look. If not, get your own!
Thanks for dropping by. I'm off!
A New English Renaissance
It is over 40 years since The Beatles worked together. Others, who made what I think are significant contributions to English music of the 60's and 70's have also, mostly long gone. David Bowie, Roxy Music, ABBA, Jethro Tull, Steeleye Span and Fairport Convention, Steve Winwood, Family, The Pretty Things, Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd, Yes, to name but a few as they say, no longer produce anything of real interest, and those who are still around, quite reasonably prefer to mine their rich back catalogues. I am not talking about Rock and Roll here, or Blues, for that matter, for they are eternal. John Mayall is the same as he ever was, and Clapton and Jimmy Page and the rest still worship at his feet. It's the same with rock. Rock is rock, and it transcends time and circumstance.
But there were strands of the English Renaissance; there was Folk, which was revived due to the tenacity of people like Martin Carthy, and popularised by Richard Thompson and all those musicians who floated in and out of the bands that collectively got known as Folk Rock. Film was full of talent and depth. To see "The Servant", for example, with talent such as Dirk Bogarde, James Fox, Joseph Losey and Harold Pinter, and a score by Johnny Dankworth, was to witness the blooming of intelligent film, unfettered by the needs of commerciality, but also inventive and watchable.
But what popular music of the 60's did was to revive the Englishness of things - so much so that the Americans were affecting English accents and trying to sound like us and everyone wanted to be in London. Even Poets had number one hits in the charts. David Hockney and Peter Blake and all those trendy snappers like Terence Donovan and David Baily were shaping an era and making sure we had a visual reference to remember it by.
Let's cut to today. Our art is anti-art. Our music is derivative. Our cultural and theatrical output is moribund. no British films are being made, other than those financed by America. Our theatre musicals are dire and produced for popular consumption. When was the last time you were able to spot a Playwright's name near the top of the bill? As for light entertainment, I cannot imagine any of today's stuff being repeated in 40 years time, like Morcambe and Wise is. Popular culture is not immune from the decline; Sean Connery was outfitted by Turnbull and Asser and Anthony Sinclair of Conduit Street for his Bond Films, Pierce Brosnan and Daniel Craig by Brioni, the Italian House.
It is an unassailable fact that in order to understand the zeitgeist, you need look no further than the James Bond franchise, now reaching spitting distance of its 50th year. So yeah, he had a British Car, but for some reason, you never see Bond these days, running around England. (Not since The World is Not Enough) No, even Saville Row has been eclipsed in international favour. In the old days, Cary Grant and Fred Astaire sent to Anderson and Sheppard of Saville Row for their suits. Jack Buchanan toured America but sent his shirts to London by ship, in order to get them laundered in the way he liked.
So what we need is a new English Renaissance. Something, a phenomena that will cause people once again to flock here and to copy us and our ways, since, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. It may be that the vanguard of this Renaissance will be Comedy. English Comedy is crossing the water like a plague of frogs, but I still think it is too gutless and cynical to mean anything. English actors are in demand for American programmes, though at present, they have to pretend to be American. As for music and Fine Art, we have a long way to go.
I wonder? Can it happen? Can there be a burst of energy which again revivifies England as a cultural hypocentre?
But there were strands of the English Renaissance; there was Folk, which was revived due to the tenacity of people like Martin Carthy, and popularised by Richard Thompson and all those musicians who floated in and out of the bands that collectively got known as Folk Rock. Film was full of talent and depth. To see "The Servant", for example, with talent such as Dirk Bogarde, James Fox, Joseph Losey and Harold Pinter, and a score by Johnny Dankworth, was to witness the blooming of intelligent film, unfettered by the needs of commerciality, but also inventive and watchable.
But what popular music of the 60's did was to revive the Englishness of things - so much so that the Americans were affecting English accents and trying to sound like us and everyone wanted to be in London. Even Poets had number one hits in the charts. David Hockney and Peter Blake and all those trendy snappers like Terence Donovan and David Baily were shaping an era and making sure we had a visual reference to remember it by.
Let's cut to today. Our art is anti-art. Our music is derivative. Our cultural and theatrical output is moribund. no British films are being made, other than those financed by America. Our theatre musicals are dire and produced for popular consumption. When was the last time you were able to spot a Playwright's name near the top of the bill? As for light entertainment, I cannot imagine any of today's stuff being repeated in 40 years time, like Morcambe and Wise is. Popular culture is not immune from the decline; Sean Connery was outfitted by Turnbull and Asser and Anthony Sinclair of Conduit Street for his Bond Films, Pierce Brosnan and Daniel Craig by Brioni, the Italian House.
It is an unassailable fact that in order to understand the zeitgeist, you need look no further than the James Bond franchise, now reaching spitting distance of its 50th year. So yeah, he had a British Car, but for some reason, you never see Bond these days, running around England. (Not since The World is Not Enough) No, even Saville Row has been eclipsed in international favour. In the old days, Cary Grant and Fred Astaire sent to Anderson and Sheppard of Saville Row for their suits. Jack Buchanan toured America but sent his shirts to London by ship, in order to get them laundered in the way he liked.
So what we need is a new English Renaissance. Something, a phenomena that will cause people once again to flock here and to copy us and our ways, since, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. It may be that the vanguard of this Renaissance will be Comedy. English Comedy is crossing the water like a plague of frogs, but I still think it is too gutless and cynical to mean anything. English actors are in demand for American programmes, though at present, they have to pretend to be American. As for music and Fine Art, we have a long way to go.
I wonder? Can it happen? Can there be a burst of energy which again revivifies England as a cultural hypocentre?
Plane knackered
At midnight on Monday, I and my overstayed house guests, set off on the 800 return journey to Bristol, with me driving the whole way. Did you know that wartime pilots were given Benzedrine to keep them awake whilst on night bombing raids? I had recourse only to a Thermos of coffee on the way there, and a series of irritating drivers on the way back, to whom I could rant, incoherently.
These days, driving those kinds of distances is novel and quite shocking. You get to see life in the raw. Bristol was a shock. I haven't seen it in seven years. It's filthy. As the morning was getting under way there were numerous cleaners and security people hosing down the front doorways - God only knows what they were hosing down - and dozens of very stinky looking people on bicycles, the sort with dreadlocks who look like animal rights protesters, were making there way somewhere with plastic bags on the handlbars of their stolen bikes. (Bike stealing in Bristol is a sort of game whereby you buy a bike, and the next day, no matter how careful you are, it gets nicked. You have to think of it as community re-cycling) (geddit?) I didn't see any of the some 20,000 failed Somali Asylum seekers, currently availing themselves of taxpayer's money. They have imported their own celebration of diversity by diversifying largely into crime. Even the BBC and the loonies in the council admit its a problem, but with idiots like Kerry McCarthy and Dim Prawnarolo as MPs, you are going to get plenty of "good news" about them too.
No, Bristol is a dump, and was when I lived there after moving from London. It is somehow more noticeable when viewing it from afar. I also liked the way ASDA has a "24 hour superstore" outwith the city, but when I tried to get in it at a quarter to eight in the morning I was told it was closed until eight. (Just what definition of "24 hour" are they working on?
Thankfully, the drive was trouble free. The car goes like stink and is comfy, though my bum vibrated for several hours after returning, and my back ached, and apart from a few dolts who like to do 30mph on perfectly clear roads where the limit is 60, and especially on bits where you cannot overtake, my time behind the wheel was as relaxing as you can expect. On the way back I mostly listened to my own compilations of Eurodisco.
For reasons I still cannot fathom I elected to return via the A7 from Carlise to Edinburgh. This is one of the best ways to travel up to Scotland and the scenery is wonderful and diverse. Not a good idea though if you are sleep deprived and in a hurry. I reached Langholm, a picturesque town that nestles among the hills; lush and tidy. I went to the loo at the car park down by the river; as usual for many parts of Scotland, it was spotless, smelled gently of cleaning unguents and devoid of graffiti. Gone were the bitter memories of service station pissoirs where a rather ugly attendant pushed a filthy mop around and then ticked the little "this facility has been cleaned at.." box. "Welcome to Scotland, Ged" I whispered to myself.
Yes, welcome.
(I am now a day behind, not to say still shattered. blogging will be light)
These days, driving those kinds of distances is novel and quite shocking. You get to see life in the raw. Bristol was a shock. I haven't seen it in seven years. It's filthy. As the morning was getting under way there were numerous cleaners and security people hosing down the front doorways - God only knows what they were hosing down - and dozens of very stinky looking people on bicycles, the sort with dreadlocks who look like animal rights protesters, were making there way somewhere with plastic bags on the handlbars of their stolen bikes. (Bike stealing in Bristol is a sort of game whereby you buy a bike, and the next day, no matter how careful you are, it gets nicked. You have to think of it as community re-cycling) (geddit?) I didn't see any of the some 20,000 failed Somali Asylum seekers, currently availing themselves of taxpayer's money. They have imported their own celebration of diversity by diversifying largely into crime. Even the BBC and the loonies in the council admit its a problem, but with idiots like Kerry McCarthy and Dim Prawnarolo as MPs, you are going to get plenty of "good news" about them too.
No, Bristol is a dump, and was when I lived there after moving from London. It is somehow more noticeable when viewing it from afar. I also liked the way ASDA has a "24 hour superstore" outwith the city, but when I tried to get in it at a quarter to eight in the morning I was told it was closed until eight. (Just what definition of "24 hour" are they working on?
Thankfully, the drive was trouble free. The car goes like stink and is comfy, though my bum vibrated for several hours after returning, and my back ached, and apart from a few dolts who like to do 30mph on perfectly clear roads where the limit is 60, and especially on bits where you cannot overtake, my time behind the wheel was as relaxing as you can expect. On the way back I mostly listened to my own compilations of Eurodisco.
For reasons I still cannot fathom I elected to return via the A7 from Carlise to Edinburgh. This is one of the best ways to travel up to Scotland and the scenery is wonderful and diverse. Not a good idea though if you are sleep deprived and in a hurry. I reached Langholm, a picturesque town that nestles among the hills; lush and tidy. I went to the loo at the car park down by the river; as usual for many parts of Scotland, it was spotless, smelled gently of cleaning unguents and devoid of graffiti. Gone were the bitter memories of service station pissoirs where a rather ugly attendant pushed a filthy mop around and then ticked the little "this facility has been cleaned at.." box. "Welcome to Scotland, Ged" I whispered to myself.
Yes, welcome.
(I am now a day behind, not to say still shattered. blogging will be light)
The Airport Song
I am calm. Our visitors have been grounded now for two days. There is no chance of a flight tomorrow and they are booked for Monday. This will probably not happen, and the only viable alternative is for me to do an 800 mile round trip, so that they can pick up their car and get on to the next leg of the journey. One must get to France, via England, and when booking a ferry the prices were going up faster than a taximeter. Anybody who says the other services are not profiteering from the current air restrictions is misinformed. I did think I could decant my guests onto a bus, except that to spend 8 hours on a bus in very cramped conditions is currently costing £120. Somebody is taking the piss.
Dr Weasel has only been back from Italy in the last few days. Had she been stranded we might have had something of a crisis to deal with, given the daily cost of staying in a Hotel, and then arranging alternative transport. There must be many people in deep doo doos over this Icelandic Volcano.
I wonder how people are taking it? I feel resigned. I feel that there is nothing I can do, and that I am one of the lucky ones. I don't have kids, I am not abroad, running out of money and pants, I do not have to be anywhere soon. As I wrote earlier, this is the second time this year that My guests have been at the mercy of the weather; delayed and dismayed.
Do Vegetables qualify for Frequent Flyer status?
You know those tiny little vegetables you get in shrink-wrapped, styrofoam packs? The ones air-freighted in from Kenya and other places? Well, they may be a bit scarce in days to come. And thank God for that. Maybe it will make people wake up and smell the carbon. Half the vegetables and 95 per cent of the fruit eaten in the UK comes from overseas.
Here are a few facts according to DEFRA:
And it is increasing. 14% of our fruit and vegetables are grown in Africa and transported here, mostly by boat, but some by plane. Unbelievably, we imported over 20,000 tonnes of cut flowers from Africa. Flowers for goodness sake!
DEFRA of course, in thrall to its political masters thinks all of this is wonderful and is to say the least apathetic about this enormous waste of resources.
So that is it then. It has taken a little smouldering pile of magma to bring us to a standstill and create shortages. In this case, shortages of stuff we do not need. I wonder, what would it take, what kind of global disaster was needed, in order for us to become dependent upon what we could grow ourselves? Well, we were doing it 70 years ago, and it was not easy. But it can be done. If you want to see how people manage it, I suggest you take a look at Ruth's site: http://diaryofamadgardener.blogspot.com/ She may be mad, but she isn't stupid.
Here are a few facts according to DEFRA:
- Air-freighted food imports account for only around 1.25% of total food imports
in terms of volume, but they are responsible for some 10% of carbon dioxide
emissions generated by UK food transport. - The UK imported around 0.78 million tonnes (mt) of fresh fruit and vegetables
from African nations in 2005. These goods had a declared value of £495m.
South Africa was the largest supplier, accounting for around 0.37 mt tonnes in
2005. Six countries accounted for 95% of fruit and vegetable imports - Because growth in import volumes from African nations has exceeded growth
in overall purchases of fruit and vegetables, Africa’s share of the market has
risen. Africa’s share of fruit and vegetables imports has also grown, from
11.5% in 1997 to around 14% in 2005.
And it is increasing. 14% of our fruit and vegetables are grown in Africa and transported here, mostly by boat, but some by plane. Unbelievably, we imported over 20,000 tonnes of cut flowers from Africa. Flowers for goodness sake!
DEFRA of course, in thrall to its political masters thinks all of this is wonderful and is to say the least apathetic about this enormous waste of resources.
So that is it then. It has taken a little smouldering pile of magma to bring us to a standstill and create shortages. In this case, shortages of stuff we do not need. I wonder, what would it take, what kind of global disaster was needed, in order for us to become dependent upon what we could grow ourselves? Well, we were doing it 70 years ago, and it was not easy. But it can be done. If you want to see how people manage it, I suggest you take a look at Ruth's site: http://diaryofamadgardener.blogspot.com/ She may be mad, but she isn't stupid.
Ashes to Ashes
This is the second time in three months that my visitors have been disrupted in their travel plans, due to natural phenomena. Of course, this time it's Nogbad the Nog and his volcano.
Flying into volcanic dust is bad for planes. They stop. In mid air. At least, the engines do, and unless you have God, personally pulling the strings of the sky hooks, your last words are going to be, "oh Shit".
There is no doubt that you or your nearest and dearest will be affected in the days to come, by this volcano in Iceland. First, they blow away our savings, then they shower us with particles. Do you think they have done this deliberately? What would Bjork do? Anyway, I have a house full and they have to be four hundred miles somewhere else by Monday. I am again running out of smiles and a demeanour of pleasantness and magnanimity, that was calculated to last until they got on the plane.
In other news, there has been a party leader's debate. I have not seen it, but like the video "Two Girls, One Cup" I have watched the reaction to it. Apparently Cleggy has done good. Frankly, I don't give a monkey's anymore. They are all shysters and snake oil salesmen out for themselves. Presently, I am minded to vote UKIP, because I think Nigel Farage doesn't give a toss what people think, and basically has the right policies for me.
There was a short delay this morning as we waited for Gretchen to lay her egg. It went straight into the pan while still warm. Yum.
I am contemplating an 800 mile round trip to rescue our guests (and me) from eternal exile in Scotland. It does not take much for the fabric of society to tear, does it?
Flying into volcanic dust is bad for planes. They stop. In mid air. At least, the engines do, and unless you have God, personally pulling the strings of the sky hooks, your last words are going to be, "oh Shit".
There is no doubt that you or your nearest and dearest will be affected in the days to come, by this volcano in Iceland. First, they blow away our savings, then they shower us with particles. Do you think they have done this deliberately? What would Bjork do? Anyway, I have a house full and they have to be four hundred miles somewhere else by Monday. I am again running out of smiles and a demeanour of pleasantness and magnanimity, that was calculated to last until they got on the plane.
In other news, there has been a party leader's debate. I have not seen it, but like the video "Two Girls, One Cup" I have watched the reaction to it. Apparently Cleggy has done good. Frankly, I don't give a monkey's anymore. They are all shysters and snake oil salesmen out for themselves. Presently, I am minded to vote UKIP, because I think Nigel Farage doesn't give a toss what people think, and basically has the right policies for me.
There was a short delay this morning as we waited for Gretchen to lay her egg. It went straight into the pan while still warm. Yum.
I am contemplating an 800 mile round trip to rescue our guests (and me) from eternal exile in Scotland. It does not take much for the fabric of society to tear, does it?
Edmund Conway's nice little revelations
The Economics Editor of the Telegraph has a very revealing piece today which tries to make sense of the real debt levels of European Countries, relative to other salient factors, such as growth and GDP.
I don't pretend to understand the half of it, but it is worth a look.
The quote that jumped out at me is:
In other words, we are living in one giant Ponzi Scheme. Mr Conway includes several graphics, but the most chilling is this:
(Click on the graphic to see the whole chart)
What you are looking at is the hidden debt that all countries are happy to leave off the official figures, such as PFI and Pensions. They all do it. And it can only be sustained by getting people to pay in at one end, in order to fund the payout at the other, except that the liabilities outstrip the assets many times over.
In simple terms, every working person in this country is being broken on the wheel of high taxation, in order to support what are unsustainable levels of public spending. I ask you: when will it end? When will the people turn around and say "enough is enough"?
My answer is that this is a bubble which will one day burst. Irresistible inflationary pressures are working on the World's major economies. One day, the money will run out and there will be rampant inflation that will make Germany in the 1930's look like a picnic in the park.
I don't pretend to understand the half of it, but it is worth a look.
The quote that jumped out at me is:
all Western nations face a long-term dilemma (which has been the case since before the crisis, but is more front-and-centre of everyone’s minds now). Over the past 50 years we have committed ourselves to massive welfare states which our economies are simply not generating enough cash to finance
In other words, we are living in one giant Ponzi Scheme. Mr Conway includes several graphics, but the most chilling is this:
(Click on the graphic to see the whole chart)
What you are looking at is the hidden debt that all countries are happy to leave off the official figures, such as PFI and Pensions. They all do it. And it can only be sustained by getting people to pay in at one end, in order to fund the payout at the other, except that the liabilities outstrip the assets many times over.
In simple terms, every working person in this country is being broken on the wheel of high taxation, in order to support what are unsustainable levels of public spending. I ask you: when will it end? When will the people turn around and say "enough is enough"?
pause again
I have not gone away, but I am busy. It is also sunny, and has been for a few days. The feel of sun on my face, the pleasure of not having to dress up in five layers it sublime and the open road, with the open top is altogether seductive.
I am currently bored with the election campaign and hardly have given it a thought. Like most, I am tired and cynical and jaded about the state of politics, about the language of the political classes which bears no relation to normal speech, and the frankly pervy freakery of Gordon Brown and his henchmen.
I went to the beach with my house guests and ordered a round of 99's from the ice cream man. A medium 99 now costs £2.50, which is almost more than a medium 69. both of which require ones mouth to be wiped with a hanky afterwards.
Dr Weasel is back from Como. You know how shit little towns always have a memorial to the one, vaguely successful person to have had the sense to leave it and make something of himself? (Boston has Herbert Ingram, whose statue presides over the Market Place, and it's ten to one on that you will have to look him up). Well, the Comoans have a monument, nay a shrine and a museum, to Senor Volta, the battery bloke. Next time you fire up the Rabbit think of Senor Volta and his Taj Mahal-like pad in Italy.
Any obscure putative worthies with monuments in your area? The inventor of flavoured knickers? Fruit Corners?
I am currently bored with the election campaign and hardly have given it a thought. Like most, I am tired and cynical and jaded about the state of politics, about the language of the political classes which bears no relation to normal speech, and the frankly pervy freakery of Gordon Brown and his henchmen.
I went to the beach with my house guests and ordered a round of 99's from the ice cream man. A medium 99 now costs £2.50, which is almost more than a medium 69. both of which require ones mouth to be wiped with a hanky afterwards.
Any obscure putative worthies with monuments in your area? The inventor of flavoured knickers? Fruit Corners?
Sir Terry is so wrong
Wogan has had a go at the news that £150 million has been wasted on flu jabs, in the wake of the H5N1 outbreak.
Hindsight is a wonderful thing, isn't it?
He burbles:
We were just lucky this time. Sooner or later, there is going to be a fatal one, and, unlike the pretty bad one of 1918, in which tens of millions died, the next one will benefit from the ease of international air travel.
There was a "cover your ass" element, but really, what's a hundred million to Gordon Brown?
Hindsight is a wonderful thing, isn't it?
He burbles:
Up there with avian flu and "mad cow" disease, your swine thing was just another scare, designed to keep us all running around in circles like headless chickens, while those in power went about their nefarious business unimpeded.This is rot. The World Health Organisation declared a Phase Six Alert, which meant a pandemic was well underway. Nobody knew at that point whether the virus would just give you a snotty nose and make you feel a bit crap, - or kill you.
We were just lucky this time. Sooner or later, there is going to be a fatal one, and, unlike the pretty bad one of 1918, in which tens of millions died, the next one will benefit from the ease of international air travel.
There was a "cover your ass" element, but really, what's a hundred million to Gordon Brown?
Symbolists and Decadents
I think Elton John qualifies for being among the most decadent people in the ephemeral world of media and personalities. This is not a criticism - merely an observation. But I must tell you what I understand by the term "decadent" and indeed "Elton John", for both are open to interpretation. But first..
Oscar Wilde was not particularly decadent. The Decadents declared that Art must be independent of moral and social concerns. He conducted an anatomy of decadence, through works such as The Picture of Dorian Gray, but that was a deeply moral book, despite the author's denials. Even his plays, with such a light touch, were often a gentle critique of Victorian mores.
Wilde took as his source material for that book, the writings of another. That other was J K Huysmans, whose À rebours or Against Nature, was a handbook of decadence. Nobody can be sure if Against Nature was sincere or a massive joke. This is so often the way. The main character in the Huysmans book is a proto Elton John. Jean Des Esseintes is an archetype of the kind of petulant, fickle, rich dilettante whose sojourn through life is tainted with ennui, mediated by myriad sensations and an unquenchable thirst for novelty. Decadence is to seek sensation for sensation's sake. It has no other purpose than to distract and amuse and has the inbuilt quality of being transient and titillating, yet ultimately unsatisfying. Against Nature has many sordid and satirical vignettes, but one of the better known is the Tortoise. Des Esseintes acquires a tortoise and has it encrusted with jewels, so that it will wander about his apartment giving off little coruscating rays of coloured light. The creature dies under the weight of the jewels.
To be fair to Elton John, at least part of his life is not decadent; he gives a great deal of time and money to AIDS charities and still gets involved with musical ventures. He does however, share one thing in common with footballers (football being one of his enduring passions), and that is the state of being enormously wealthy without being enormously sensible.
A word about Symbolists; they are lumped together with decadents but they sought, in artistic terms, to make the words and characters mean more than their face value, as an antidote to the Realism and Naturalism of writers like Zola and Flaubert. Wilde displayed his Symbolist credentials in Salome, but even with this work, critics argue about whether he "meant it" or not - the key to Wilde's work being that it reflected his life, and his work, which was essentially a simulacrum in dramatic form.
* * * * * * * * *
I began writing this because of something completely other. I believe that David Cameron is about to introduce a Tax Allowance for married couples and civil partners. Those who do not fall into this category say it is not fair. Hardly surprising, is it, but I like the idea. I like it, because it is symbolic of a preference for the state of marriage. Knock it if you like, but when two people vow publicly to commit to one another, it is a statement of intent and belief and faith.
The alternative is ultimately a declaration of decadence; to place no such belief in longevity, or faithfulness or hope. I am not saying you cannot be committed without being officially married, what I am saying is that There is a spectrum of commitment, with marriage and civil partnership at the top and casual sex at the bottom. This is a deeply moral statement, I know, but I believe it. If you reject it, you probably do not share my value system, which is fine.
Gordon Brown was recently asked, "What is your favourite love poem?" It is at times like these when all the briefing notes and editorial control flies out of the window. Brown's reply was to open and close his mouth like a goldfish, finally coming up (some time later, and probably after a meeting with his advisors) with the Burns poem, "My love is like a red, red rose"
I would not blink for a second before telling you mine from the poet who was deeply influenced by the Symbolist Movement, William Butler Yeats:
Oscar Wilde was not particularly decadent. The Decadents declared that Art must be independent of moral and social concerns. He conducted an anatomy of decadence, through works such as The Picture of Dorian Gray, but that was a deeply moral book, despite the author's denials. Even his plays, with such a light touch, were often a gentle critique of Victorian mores.
Wilde took as his source material for that book, the writings of another. That other was J K Huysmans, whose À rebours or Against Nature, was a handbook of decadence. Nobody can be sure if Against Nature was sincere or a massive joke. This is so often the way. The main character in the Huysmans book is a proto Elton John. Jean Des Esseintes is an archetype of the kind of petulant, fickle, rich dilettante whose sojourn through life is tainted with ennui, mediated by myriad sensations and an unquenchable thirst for novelty. Decadence is to seek sensation for sensation's sake. It has no other purpose than to distract and amuse and has the inbuilt quality of being transient and titillating, yet ultimately unsatisfying. Against Nature has many sordid and satirical vignettes, but one of the better known is the Tortoise. Des Esseintes acquires a tortoise and has it encrusted with jewels, so that it will wander about his apartment giving off little coruscating rays of coloured light. The creature dies under the weight of the jewels.
To be fair to Elton John, at least part of his life is not decadent; he gives a great deal of time and money to AIDS charities and still gets involved with musical ventures. He does however, share one thing in common with footballers (football being one of his enduring passions), and that is the state of being enormously wealthy without being enormously sensible.
A word about Symbolists; they are lumped together with decadents but they sought, in artistic terms, to make the words and characters mean more than their face value, as an antidote to the Realism and Naturalism of writers like Zola and Flaubert. Wilde displayed his Symbolist credentials in Salome, but even with this work, critics argue about whether he "meant it" or not - the key to Wilde's work being that it reflected his life, and his work, which was essentially a simulacrum in dramatic form.
* * * * * * * * *
I began writing this because of something completely other. I believe that David Cameron is about to introduce a Tax Allowance for married couples and civil partners. Those who do not fall into this category say it is not fair. Hardly surprising, is it, but I like the idea. I like it, because it is symbolic of a preference for the state of marriage. Knock it if you like, but when two people vow publicly to commit to one another, it is a statement of intent and belief and faith.
The alternative is ultimately a declaration of decadence; to place no such belief in longevity, or faithfulness or hope. I am not saying you cannot be committed without being officially married, what I am saying is that There is a spectrum of commitment, with marriage and civil partnership at the top and casual sex at the bottom. This is a deeply moral statement, I know, but I believe it. If you reject it, you probably do not share my value system, which is fine.
Gordon Brown was recently asked, "What is your favourite love poem?" It is at times like these when all the briefing notes and editorial control flies out of the window. Brown's reply was to open and close his mouth like a goldfish, finally coming up (some time later, and probably after a meeting with his advisors) with the Burns poem, "My love is like a red, red rose"
I would not blink for a second before telling you mine from the poet who was deeply influenced by the Symbolist Movement, William Butler Yeats:
When you are old and grey and full of sleep,The Pilgrim Soul - how far away from the trappings of fame and stardom and how much more valuable?
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;
How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim Soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;
And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.
Malcolm McLaren - Nevermind the Anarchy
without Malcolm McLaren (who died of cancer recently)
punk rockers would have been just a bunch of dumb yobs (Tony Parsons)
I disagree. It is sad that anybody dies of cancer - not a happy way to go I expect, but I do notice that overall, the obits of this self styled guru are not glowing.
Punk did not entirely pass me by. I went along to a notorious performance by the all girl band, The Slits, at the Rainbow. I don't know if the show was representative of the punk audience, but instead of being spat on or glared at, everyone was very polite. Before the show, what looked like WI tea ladies sold sandwiches and soda. Punks (terrifying beings with safety pins and torn clothes and "Anarchy" scrawled in felt tip pen on T shirts and inexplicable Jean-Jacques Burnell clones) would ask politely of the tea ladies if there was a vegetarian option. They were all charming and apologised if they bumped into you. The Slits were late going on and played for 20 minutes. I was relieved they did not do an encore.
The highlight of my evening was when a Slit came and sat next to me to watch the support and rolled a joint. They owed their moment of fame to one Robin Scott, mastermind behind "M" and their hit "Pop Music, and, incidentally, a fellow Croydon Art College alumnus. By the time the Pistols imploded, the whole punk phenomena had all been clawed back to Tin Pan Alley and the camel coats.
Punk Rockers were just a bunch of yobs. It was not political because it quickly defaulted to the lowest common denominator. None of the music stands the light of day 30 years later. It never gets played, apart from the more poppy, overproduced stuff. The idea that anybody could buy a guitar and play three chords, out of tune, was doomed to last five minutes. It was a political statement, aimed at those who hadn't a clue about anarchy or anarcho-syndicalism, and that is why it was only dangerous to tabloid journalists; it picked up rebels without a cause and sold them very expensive gear from the Kings Road. In the end, punk was a clothing sales gimmick. It did not change music - just look at the crap in the charts, all the bland non-threatening glop. It did not change society. Punk politicised nobody. If anything, music and politics is worse than it was in 1977.
McClaren's clever idea was to major in mischief, and mischief sells, until you have the sense to grow up and support your family. It was an embodiment of disposable music in a disposable world. He was an arch architect of the cult of ephemeral art, and for that, he will get a small footnote in pop culture.
I usually include a post-specific tune at this point, but really, there is nothing I could possibly want to play you. I think Malcolm McLaren might understand the waspish irony of the track I have chosen:
The Best Bond Theme that never was
Ok so I am having fun with this gadget that does slide shows.
Once in a while you hear a song and you think, "That would make a bloody good James Bond Theme tune". Or maybe, not. Anyway, this one, from Mandragora Scream, an Italian Goth Metal Band, sounds as if it is, but it is not.
Once in a while you hear a song and you think, "That would make a bloody good James Bond Theme tune". Or maybe, not. Anyway, this one, from Mandragora Scream, an Italian Goth Metal Band, sounds as if it is, but it is not.
Favourite Bond? Roger Moore. Favourite Bond Theme? Too many, but You Only Live Twice, We Have All the Time in the World, Live and Let Die and View to a Kill come to mind.
Pragmatism - the Spirit of the Age
This is my first post about the forthcoming election. Except that it isn't, it is about my reflections on the last decade of British life. Certain things are held to be true. Sadly, nobody believes that the same things are true. Not only that, they change their minds about what is right and what is true according to the myriad conflicting pressures and tropes and the demands of the moment. This is pragmatism in action. This is short-termism. If anything, the last decade can be characterised by the triumph of pragmatism over vision.
There is an old line somewhere that goes, "By their fruits you shall know them". There are some people whose sum total of activity will leave a net contribution to society. Some will do it because of the kind of work they do, like doctors or firemen, and others will do it by being quietly supportive of friends in need. Some will do it, merely, but importantly, by working all their lives, paying taxes and doing everything the right way - often the hard way.
It is easy to cut corners. It is easy to be bad. It is easy to make money if you have no scruples. But the kind of society we achieve is dependent upon the combined efforts of all those whose overall contribution is positive.
And so, in taking a look back at the last ten years, I believe the key question is, who won? Was it the people who try and do things the good way or people who don't care about others, only personal gain?
Personal gain needs unpacking; there is a lot to be gained by being identified as a protected species. It firstly appeals to the ego. It then benefits to the detriment of others. If then, this arbitrary and exalted status is enshrined in law, it is a foregone conclusion that the exalted status will be open to abuse. Choose your own examples.
A lot is talked of privilege and class. Privilege though, is not just which school you went to, or who your parents were, it is the means by which one person is elevated in status above another, at the cost of another. The Unions were a paradigm of this in the 70's. They had placed themselves above the populace they claimed to serve, and in fact, had tyrannised it.
Privilege is conferred on many who have no real deserving of it. The government can apparently create peerages at will, and then place them in political positions without the inconvenience of worrying the democratic process. I wonder how many of these non-elected individuals can actually run a government?
Privilege is conferred upon many who have merely conformed to an arbitrary index of deservance, such as ethnic minorities and gays. Members of these two example communities throw up the good and the bad, but it is the bad that political correctness protects. The examples in political life are fairly obvious.
Where has hegemony gone? Who runs the country? What kind of a country is it that imprisons householders who seek to protect their families from violence, and compensates criminals?
Why has the Muslim community been single out for favour and tax-payer's money, when a large proportion of these people want to overthrow the very mechanisms which allow them to live peaceably and free?
What is it about this decade, that has seen two wars which we have essentially lost, or at least have been proved utterly pointless? What is it about this decade that has seen the rise of domestic, Islamist terrorism?
What is it about this decade which has revealed our hospitals to be filthy and our schools to be lower than former Eastern Europe countries in achievement?
I know there are many answers to complex issues, but I would like to put one thing forward, and that is that we are no longer a nation that is in any way religious. Now, you may think that is a good thing, but just stop and think for a moment: if you spend any part of your day in contemplation or abstinence - even if abstinence means turning the telly off - if you spent time trying to understand your place in the universe, or even, seriously thinking about God, it is possible that you would begin to see how far we have fallen from the beauty of humanity and you might begin to see that pragmatism, the spirit of the age, is good for five minutes but not for eternity.
There is an old line somewhere that goes, "By their fruits you shall know them". There are some people whose sum total of activity will leave a net contribution to society. Some will do it because of the kind of work they do, like doctors or firemen, and others will do it by being quietly supportive of friends in need. Some will do it, merely, but importantly, by working all their lives, paying taxes and doing everything the right way - often the hard way.
It is easy to cut corners. It is easy to be bad. It is easy to make money if you have no scruples. But the kind of society we achieve is dependent upon the combined efforts of all those whose overall contribution is positive.
And so, in taking a look back at the last ten years, I believe the key question is, who won? Was it the people who try and do things the good way or people who don't care about others, only personal gain?
Personal gain needs unpacking; there is a lot to be gained by being identified as a protected species. It firstly appeals to the ego. It then benefits to the detriment of others. If then, this arbitrary and exalted status is enshrined in law, it is a foregone conclusion that the exalted status will be open to abuse. Choose your own examples.
A lot is talked of privilege and class. Privilege though, is not just which school you went to, or who your parents were, it is the means by which one person is elevated in status above another, at the cost of another. The Unions were a paradigm of this in the 70's. They had placed themselves above the populace they claimed to serve, and in fact, had tyrannised it.
Privilege is conferred on many who have no real deserving of it. The government can apparently create peerages at will, and then place them in political positions without the inconvenience of worrying the democratic process. I wonder how many of these non-elected individuals can actually run a government?
Privilege is conferred upon many who have merely conformed to an arbitrary index of deservance, such as ethnic minorities and gays. Members of these two example communities throw up the good and the bad, but it is the bad that political correctness protects. The examples in political life are fairly obvious.
Where has hegemony gone? Who runs the country? What kind of a country is it that imprisons householders who seek to protect their families from violence, and compensates criminals?
Why has the Muslim community been single out for favour and tax-payer's money, when a large proportion of these people want to overthrow the very mechanisms which allow them to live peaceably and free?
What is it about this decade, that has seen two wars which we have essentially lost, or at least have been proved utterly pointless? What is it about this decade that has seen the rise of domestic, Islamist terrorism?
What is it about this decade which has revealed our hospitals to be filthy and our schools to be lower than former Eastern Europe countries in achievement?
I know there are many answers to complex issues, but I would like to put one thing forward, and that is that we are no longer a nation that is in any way religious. Now, you may think that is a good thing, but just stop and think for a moment: if you spend any part of your day in contemplation or abstinence - even if abstinence means turning the telly off - if you spent time trying to understand your place in the universe, or even, seriously thinking about God, it is possible that you would begin to see how far we have fallen from the beauty of humanity and you might begin to see that pragmatism, the spirit of the age, is good for five minutes but not for eternity.
Fiona O'Donnell is new Labour candidate for E Lothian
Local lady, Fiona O'Donnell has replaced the nasty and disgraced Anne Moffat for the Labour Candidacy in East Lothian, beating off two highly connected parachutists.
Edinburgh Evening News reports:
It appears that the local party have resisted the imposition of candidates favoured by Labour HQ, and you cannot help admiring them for giving Number Ten the finger.
East Lothian is by no means a watertight Labour seat, especially after the Anne Moffat episode, a woman so disliked by her own party that she was deselected, and who milked the public purse during her tenure, claiming nearly £40,000 in travel expenses - the highest of any MP including the Member for Orkney and Shetland. It appears that the only credible opposition to Labour in EL is Stuart Ritchie, the Lib Dem Candidate, with the SNP trailing behind the Tories at the last election.
Tactical voters like me will have to examine our consciences, but it is bleedin obvious that the SNP chap does not stand a chance. For what it is worth, and having lived in East Lothian for seven years, the influx of new residents have definitely been types who look as if they would vote Lib Dem. For those who do not know, East Lothian suffered from a travesty of social engineering in the sixties and seventies, when large numbers of Glasgow and and environs schemies were re-housed from the slums. If those people vote at all, it is for Labour, and has had the effect of keeping the seat safe for Labour for some time. But anybody who looks around the constituency can see now that the thousands of new-build properties that have sprung up since the beginning of the decade are going to be home to Lib Dems or Tories.
It will be close, but I predict a Lib Dem gain for East Lothian, as long as their candidate can walk and talk.
Edinburgh Evening News reports:
Ms O'Donnell, 50, saw off competition from Ayesha Hazarika, a stand-up comic and adviser to Harriet Harman, and Kirsty O'Brien, a policy adviser to Gordon Brown, to win the nomination at a meeting of the local party last night.
It appears that the local party have resisted the imposition of candidates favoured by Labour HQ, and you cannot help admiring them for giving Number Ten the finger.
East Lothian is by no means a watertight Labour seat, especially after the Anne Moffat episode, a woman so disliked by her own party that she was deselected, and who milked the public purse during her tenure, claiming nearly £40,000 in travel expenses - the highest of any MP including the Member for Orkney and Shetland. It appears that the only credible opposition to Labour in EL is Stuart Ritchie, the Lib Dem Candidate, with the SNP trailing behind the Tories at the last election.
Tactical voters like me will have to examine our consciences, but it is bleedin obvious that the SNP chap does not stand a chance. For what it is worth, and having lived in East Lothian for seven years, the influx of new residents have definitely been types who look as if they would vote Lib Dem. For those who do not know, East Lothian suffered from a travesty of social engineering in the sixties and seventies, when large numbers of Glasgow and and environs schemies were re-housed from the slums. If those people vote at all, it is for Labour, and has had the effect of keeping the seat safe for Labour for some time. But anybody who looks around the constituency can see now that the thousands of new-build properties that have sprung up since the beginning of the decade are going to be home to Lib Dems or Tories.
It will be close, but I predict a Lib Dem gain for East Lothian, as long as their candidate can walk and talk.
The Perils of running a Bed and Breakfast House
I have never understood why people run B&Bs. Let us think it through; you have a perfectly nice home, and you decide that it would be fun to let complete strangers stay in it. Strangers who will leave stains, or polonium traces or without paying.
On top of this, you have a lot of washing to do. On top of that, you have to be nice all the time. Should you get into an argument with one of your guests, you might end up with a visit from the local Constabulary. If you decide, when these unknowns arrive, you had better be sure they are not gay, or black, or gypsies or anything other than white and male, or you may find you chuck them at your peril.
And so it is with regret that I say to those who open a B&B expecting that nice people like them will be the only punters, maybe a little time spent thinking it through in the beginning, might have helped. If you are prone to argue with Muzzies, then don't open a B&B. If you don't want Gays, then don't open a B&B.
Just really, be like me - I find the majority of humanity quite unpleasant and spend most of my time avoiding them. So, if you really, deep down, have a problem with certain kinds of people, instead of opening your home to a bunch of people you really do not like, then come out as a miserable, misanthropic git and be honest about yourself and become a traffic warden or, as in my case, have enough money not to need to open my home to any other than VFRs.
Addendum:
This post is attracting the attention of B&B people - I would like to read what they have to say about it all.
Of course, there are a lot of very good places, run by people who understand hospitality and quality. However, staying at one still means you have to look at other people and be polite at 8 a.m.
Note to B&B hosts: make sure you have a very good web site and never, never tell people you are wonderful...Tracy and Darren are renowned for their warm welcome...at best, it smacks of desperation and being over ingratiating, and at worst you are in for the benefit of Darren's wisdom on everything, or his hobbies. All I want from a B&B is clean sheets, real coffee, and some peace.
On top of this, you have a lot of washing to do. On top of that, you have to be nice all the time. Should you get into an argument with one of your guests, you might end up with a visit from the local Constabulary. If you decide, when these unknowns arrive, you had better be sure they are not gay, or black, or gypsies or anything other than white and male, or you may find you chuck them at your peril.
And so it is with regret that I say to those who open a B&B expecting that nice people like them will be the only punters, maybe a little time spent thinking it through in the beginning, might have helped. If you are prone to argue with Muzzies, then don't open a B&B. If you don't want Gays, then don't open a B&B.
Just really, be like me - I find the majority of humanity quite unpleasant and spend most of my time avoiding them. So, if you really, deep down, have a problem with certain kinds of people, instead of opening your home to a bunch of people you really do not like, then come out as a miserable, misanthropic git and be honest about yourself and become a traffic warden or, as in my case, have enough money not to need to open my home to any other than VFRs.
Addendum:
This post is attracting the attention of B&B people - I would like to read what they have to say about it all.
Of course, there are a lot of very good places, run by people who understand hospitality and quality. However, staying at one still means you have to look at other people and be polite at 8 a.m.
Note to B&B hosts: make sure you have a very good web site and never, never tell people you are wonderful...Tracy and Darren are renowned for their warm welcome...at best, it smacks of desperation and being over ingratiating, and at worst you are in for the benefit of Darren's wisdom on everything, or his hobbies. All I want from a B&B is clean sheets, real coffee, and some peace.
Starting with Condolences
Katie Thear, one of the pioneers of self-sufficiency, and a champion of the free-range chicken movement, died last week, at the age of 70. Her books on raising livestock and poultry, and particularly Starting with Chickens, is the must have seminal book for beginners in poultry keeping. The book was a great encouragement and a mine of useful information when we started with chickens in 2003. Katie wrote some 22 books on small-holding, many of which are still in print, together with a monthly magazine that survives her as Country Smallholding.
Her contribution to the revival of interest in creating harmony with our surroundings lives on.
A Man's a man for a' That
East Lothian is undoubtedly Scottish, but not in the way people expect.
Perhaps one of the apparently disappointing things about my part of the world is that sometimes it does not come up to my visitors' expectations of "Scotland". There are no great lochs, or soaring mountains or lots of people in kilts leaning on rams horn walking sticks. I have yet to see anybody tossing a caber. But if you scratch the surface, you can find that which is the quintessence of Scottishness, because a few miles away lies the abode of Agnes Broun. Perhaps you may not have heard of Agnes Broun of Grant's Braes. She was an illiterate woman who could not even write her name and had suffered from a broken engagement to a fellow manual worker. She then married a restless gardener called William Burnes and died at the age of 88, having outlived her famous son, one Robert Burns. A monument, erected in 1932, remains as a noble and uplifting memory of her life:
"Drink of the pure crystals and not only be ye succoured but also refreshed in the mind. Agnes Broun, 1732 - 1820. To the mortal and immortal memory and in noble tribute to her, who not only gave a son to Scotland but to the whole world and whose own doctrines he preached to humanity that we might learn."
Which puts me in mind, speaking of doctrines, of a favourite Burns poem of many; A Man's a Man for a' That.
I believe it is a decrying of rank, and the trappings of importance that separate man from man, together with a prediction that in future, That Man to Man, the world o'er, Shall brothers be for a' that.
Oh that Burns' wish had come true. Sadly, merit, or pride o' worth, is no guarantee of social or political rank or advancement; just look at the bunch of hapless party mouthpieces who were recently caught touting their tarnished wares for business on Channel Four's Dispatches programme.
Elphinstone, also nearby, is a nondescript, down at heel hamlet that is of no interest, save that it gives its name to the Lords of Elphinstone, who, by a series of circuitous alliances and marriages, were descended from the Bullers of Looe. It may be the case that the name John Buller does not ring a bell, and why should it? Here is a picture clue - the hookah is a red herring; he was resident in India for some years until the affairs of England and a very naughty wife, caused his return.
Still no idea?
The Bullers were a very powerful Cornish family who happened to control several seats in Parliament through the ownership, if you can call it that, of Rotten Boroughs. The Rotten Borough of East Looe, for example, incumbent, John Buller, had about 38 voters.
Perhaps Buller was not all bad. He chose not to bother with the affairs of state and never took a position in the Government, but he was a supporter of Pitt and Grenville. In Buller's time as an MP, he heard news of Nelson's victory at Trafalgar and saw the beginning of the end of the Slave Trade. I do not know what his position was on this but it is most likely he was a supporter of the abolitionists.
Robert Burns hoped for the end of deference and patronage. It was not to be. The John Bullers of this world may have disappeared with the Reform Act of 1832, but patronage and favour still exists, albeit in modified form. The great and the good, or those who think they are, can still parachute a favoured protege, such as the pretty-looking Tristram Hunt - a friend of Peter Mandelson - into a safe, Parliamentary seat. Who knows if Hunt, whose tenure for the position of Member for the safe seat of Stoke-on-Trent Central has raised so many local hackles, will turn out to be for the good? After all,
A Man's a man for a' That
On Days Like These
Strange Weather. One day, the trains between Glasgow and Edinburgh get stuck in snow, the next, the visitors are out walking on the coast.
And I have fired up the MG and gone for a lovely drive along the coast, trying not to think about paying for the head gasket.
I am inclined to think that blogging will be light.
Not Turning Scandinavian
I like Iittala products, so all the glassware and cutlery comes from them and some other pottery. I have a few things from IKEA and to be honest, I sort of enjoy walking around the store because it is exactly the same all over the world, and I can forget I am on in a retail park on the outskirts of Edinburgh. I met a Dane called Dita Bang. It's the kind of name you cannot make up. She is incredibly, not a stripper. I love the music of the Scandinavian and Baltic countries, and could easily do without all the other classical stuff I have. I became a fan of ABBA later on in life. The first time around I was fashionably and, mistakenly scathing. Little did I realise that Benny Bjorn Agnetha and Frida were producing modern Scandinavian-influenced folk music that will still be around 100 years from now, long after Oasis and the Arctic Monkeys have been forgotten and buried.
The Finns are of course traditionally mournful. You probably think it is the suicide capital of the world. Think again! In the years between 1992 and 1997 the suicide rate dropped by a whopping 40%. Men are four times as likely to top themselves as women. However, the Finns are still twice as suicidal as the Norwegians, who are a lot more suicidal than us Brits. I have been feeling suicidal for about 35 years, so I am not entirely sure my heart is in it, and therefore, that is further proof that I am not turning Scandinavian.
No, so I am probably not turning Scandinavian, but I yearn so very deeply, for a sauna and a good beating with some birch twigs.
Meanwhile, here is a track that sums up the last weeks and the next few; inundated with visitors (I must stress, people I like and love) but visitors all the same, which handily sums up all I like about the Fab Swedish Four:
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